


Priori Incantatem

by Daerwyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, James Potter Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine James' reaction to finding out Lily's been killed during the First War, and he wakes up in St. Mungo's fifteen years later, confused, but with a burning vow inside of him to keep his son safe, no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wilted

_~ June 25th, 1995 ~_

James Potter felt like he had drunk two bottles of Ogden's finest and then went practicing Wronski Feints off the edge of the Cliffs of Dover. And survived.

"James?"

"Go to hell, Moony. I've got the worst headache." James slapped away the hand that was clutching his shoulder, and turned over, grabbing the measly pillow under his head and trying to fluff it up. The pillow wouldn't cooperate. Which meant it wasn't one of his magically enhanced pillows he had at home.

Which meant he wasn't at home. And he wasn't at home because...?

Bloody hell. He opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was sterilizing whiteness. Definitely not his house, where Flower had insisted on yellows and creams everywhere. And there was a faint strip of blue on the curtain hanging across from him.

Shit, had he passed out in Sirius's bathroom again? But no, because the distance was all wrong, and Moony had a plain white shower liner. Not ... whatever that cloth atrocity was.

Then he noticed the large figure a few feet off from his line of vision. It was blurry, but the man was about the right height and build of Moony. Even the same hair color. But the gray streaks and the lines... that was all wrong. Moony wasn't that old. And it wasn't Lyall, his father.

Where the bloody fuck was he, and who was that man? James sat up abruptly, and the whiteness stretched around him, the same bloody curtain surrounding him on a bed. "Where the bloody fuck am I, Remus? What the hell have I done now?"

"You're in St. Mungo's," Moony's voice said carefully, as if afraid of startling him. "Glad you remember me, mate. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I... What the hell did I do to get into..." What was the last thing he could remember?

James closed his eyes, finding that trying to focus on something was making his headache worse. "I... I don't know. Christmas? No... There was summer after that." James ran through everything he could possibly think of, trying to remember what had happened last - trying to remember what could possibly have happened.

And then it hit him. "Halloween."

"Yeah," Remus agreed, his voice hoarse. "Halloween sounds right."

James opened his eyes, glancing to his best friend. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Bavaria-"

Something clicked in Remus's hands and when James glanced down to them, he could make out the faint outline of glasses. His glasses. Bloody hell, he need them. As if realizing what James was looking at, Remus handed them over. "I haven't been out of country in a long time, James. There's a lot that's changed." James slid his glasses on, and when he glanced up, sucked in a sharp breath.

"Moony, I hate to break it to you, mate, but Bavaria was awful to you." He was covered in scars, there were wrinkles and lines everywhere. He looked... old. "Where's... " His throat felt dry as Halloween flashed before his eyes like a pensieve memory. It was becoming clearer and clearer, the night. The terror that he had felt, the scream as the door was kicked in. "Where's Lily?" he was croaking now and when he glanced up to Remus, the man's face dropped slightly. James knew the answer just with that. "No... no. Harry?"

"Harry's alright," Remus said softly. "But a lot's changed, Prongs. It's been fourteen years since Halloween. It's summer of 1995." James blinked rapidly.

"You're joking mate. You took an age potion and you and Sirius thought it'd be funny after-"

"He came to your house," Remus said gently. The werewolf moved to sit at the foot of the hospital bed, and James didn't need to ask who. He had the memory. But it had to be a joke. It had to be. "You tried to fight him off without a wand." He did. "You told Lily to run with Harry. And she took him upstairs-"

"No."

"He shot you with a stunner, and you went flying through the wall, out into the garden... You hit your head something wicked and were knocked unconscious immediately." James squeezed his eyes shut. Remus's hand went to James' knee, atop the blanket, and James sucked in a breath as he continued. "He told Lily to step aside, but Lily wouldn't."

"You're lying," James ground out. Remus had to be. Lily wouldn't have done that. Lily would have run with Harry. She was supposed to run with Harry-

"She's gone, mate. She died fourteen years ago."

"And Harry... you said Harry was okay."

"He tried to kill Harry after Lily," Remus said. James jerked his head up sharply, seeing that Remus was studying him as he spoke. "But the spell rebounded. He died, and Harry... Harry survived." His son was okay. His son, the whole reason they had been in hiding in the first place, was alright. "You were brought to St. Mungo's when they realized you were still alive. You've been in a coma all this time. Who knew you'd be as stubborn as a hippogriff."

"Lily's dead," James whispered. "But it was just yesterday-"

"I know, it seems like it," Remus said quietly. "But... well, a lot else has changed. They didn't know... that Pettigrew betrayed the location." James's fist clenched in the sheets. "They thought it was Sirius. We all thought it was Sirius. You said it was Sirius all the time." James swallowed. "Sirius went to Azkaban."

"What?" James gasped, his voice sounding strangled.

"It's alright, he's... he's out now," Remus said, glancing around them worriedly. As if someone was listening in to their conversation. It caused paranoia to rise up in James. "He's escaped. We know the truth, Harry found Peter Pettigrew two years ago-"

"Pettigrew came after my son?" James cried. He struggled to untangle himself from the sheets, to pull himself out of the bed "When I get my fists around-"

"You need to calm down," Remus said sharply. James swallowed back his anger, waiting. "I know this is a lot to take in, but in order to clear Sirius's name, you'll need to give a statement to the Ministry. He wanted to come to see you, but if he's caught, I'll be charged with aiding a fugitive." And no one wanted a werewolf in a prison. "And then we've got to get you back into working order. Harry's coming to Headquarters next week and-"

"Headquarters?" James repeated. "Why is the Order still in effect if he's gone?" Remus hesitated and James felt a queasiness in his stomach. "Remus...?"

"Prongs, he's back. Last year, Harry... Harry got involved in the TriWizard Tournament - won, of course - but... You-Know-Who came back." James blinked rapidly. His son had won a TriWizard Tournament. His son had survived a tournament of deadly tasks. And despite the swell of pride, he quickly switched to the task at hand.

"You-Know-Who's back."

"Yeah, he is," Remus said quietly. "And we've got a hell of a lot of work to do to get any upper hand." James ran his hand over his face, and froze when he felt scratchy stubble on his chin. Remus seemed to know what he was thinking - Remus always knew what he was thinking. "You've got to shave, but that won't happen until they say you're alright, mate. You just woke up. You showed signs last night, and I've been here ever since. Though a familiar face would help... even if I've aged horribly, as you've put it." James wasn't sure how to comprehend any of this. It was too much to process.

"Harry... Harry's where, exactly? Who takes care of him? Sirius was his godfather."

"Let's wait until you get out of here to talk about all that-"

"If it's not Sirius, then... you?"

Remus winced. "No, mate. Werewolf, remember?" James was confused.

"The other person after you would have been Frank and Alice-"

"They're... well, they're across the hall," Remus said quietly. "The Lestranges and Crouch got to them." James felt fear building in his throat.

"Who has my son, Remus?"

"Lily's sister." James cursed, and pulled himself out of the bed. "James, wait-" But James didn't listen, realizing he was in a loose gown that was showing all of his bits to everyone that looked, he grabbed the robe off the chair and slid it on, then dug around in the drawers of the bedside table, looking for his wand. Surely they wouldn't take it from him. It had to be near him. "James, you can't leave-"

"I determine that I'm of perfectly sound mind. I'm leaving and I'm going to be getting my son, and that's the end of the story, Remus," James snapped. "And then you're going to explain everything to me."

"He doesn't even know you're alive, James." James paused, closing the drawer slowly when he realized that his wand wasn't there. "We haven't told him." His son didn't even know. James closed his eyes, and that was when the tears started to come. Tears of absolute grief. Lily - his Flower. Wilted. Gone. He sank onto the side of the bed and Remus continued quietly. "His aunt and uncle told him that you two died in a car crash."

James swallowed. "And by the time he got his letter, we told him the truth about Halloween, but... we didn't tell him you were still alive. We didn't think you'd ever wake up, mate. And ... he's had a pretty shite life up to this point. I hadn't even met him until his third year."

"What year is he in now?" James asked hoarsely.

"He'll be going into his fifth."

James felt a chuckle rise in his throat. "Fourth year, and he kicked three school's arses to come out on top?"

"He's a pretty remarkable kid, James. And he's got the greatest friends. He's... he's famous. Everyone knows his name, and your name and Lily's." James swallowed at Lily's name. "He's the kid that survived the Killing Curse."

"How?"

"Lily sacrificed herself. A mother's magic... It protected him. You-Know-Who couldn't even touch him until this summer." James didn't even want to ask. "When he comes to Headquarters, we'll tell him. But we don't want to lead you-know-who to his doorstep. It's going to take some time, Prongs. And you need to get used to moving around again."

"I feel fine, Remus. I just need to see my son." He needed to know for certain that he was alive.

"I know. You will. But not right now. He spends his summers in the Muggle world. He's the youngest seeker of the age," Remus told him quietly. "Not so great grades, but then he takes more after you than Lily."

"He has her eyes." It was one thing he remembered about the little boy he had watched be rushed away by his mother before everything went black.

"Yeah, he does."

James swallowed. "Lily wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to apparate Harry away to the other safe house."

"I'm sorry, mate."

There was silence, and James took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "Who do I talk to about Sirius? The sooner we can do whatever we need to, the better. And then I want to see her, if I can't see my son. I want to see Lily's grave."

Remus was quiet. "Alright, mate. We'll... we'll do that."

"She wasn't supposed to die. I was supposed to protect her."

"I know. Fate is funny that way. Doesn't do anything like you plan for." They were all supposed to live in a big house together, be around each other 24/7, drive each other crazy. Nearly kill one another. Not... not be separated like this. "Quite frankly, mate, I'm tired of seeing your arse hanging out. I'm going to get you clothes and the Ministry official, and then we're going to get you to Headquarters."

"Is Sirius there?"

"Yeah, he's waiting." James relaxed slightly at that. It was not until Remus shut the curtain behind him that James cried. For both the lost years, and for his Flower.


	2. Gleam

_~ July 18th, 1995 ~_

It took a week for James to manage to get out of the infirmary, as nearly fifty different diagnostic spells were used, and he was monitored to make sure he was healthy enough. On top of that, he had to get used to solid food again. It... well, it was more of a process than James figured it would take.

And then after he was taken from St. Mungo's, he was brought to where he would be staying for the time being, on lockdown unless on Ministry business. Grimmauld Place. The place Sirius had run away from all those years ago, to stay with James. And now James was just a prisoner as Sirius was.

It was not until mid-July that James was able to secure a meeting with the Wizengamot to present evidence that Sirius Black did not betray him and Lily, but Peter Pettigrew had instead. It made front page news, Sirius's acquittal. But the Ministry had left James' existence out of it. It had been a request that he made, not entirely sure if it would be able to be kept secret. He just didn't want Harry to find out about him before they could explain anything. He didn't want Harry to feel like he had kept his life a secret from him, he didn't want that kind of betrayal to interrupt their reunion.

Oddly enough, Molly had the worst the say about his son. Though she sang praises about how he was such a good, grounded boy, he was supposedly incredibly skinny and had horrible eye-sight.

"Gets that from you, too, mate," Sirius grinned across the table to James. But he was focused on the skinny part, that Molly had specifically described as malnourished.

Sirius's grin reminded James of old times. And somehow, James felt like he was in the seventies again, in his parent's house, with Sirius throwing thinly veiled insults about his parents to anyone that would listen. It was like time had slipped through his fingers. He couldn't even grasp how much he had missed.

The pictures and articles they showed him were spitting images of himself at that age. And his friends were even worse - in all the best ways. Ron Weasley reminded him too much of Peter, loyal and kind, but tempered and insecure. Yet, he trusted Ron in a way that he had always felt he couldn't trust Peter. It made him worry about Ron's friendship with his son - if he would be a threat to his son as Peter had turned out to be to him and Lily.

Hermione was bloody brilliant. There was no denying it. She had asked him endless questions about the coma he was in, asking him if he dreamt, what it felt like. A bit dizzing, but like Lily. Curious, needed to learn everything. The need to make up for the fact that she wasn't born in this world. Lily had studied herself hoarse more times than he cared to admit.

And then there was Ginevra - Ginny, he had learned, after calling her by the wrong name and nearly getting hexed for it. She was every bit the fire that the Weasley brood needed, and also reminded him of his flower. It was funny how time seemed to repeat itself, only a generation after.

A whole bloody generation born and bred from war for war. This was all supposed to be over. There was supposed to be no more war.

Harry was arriving in two weeks.

By broom. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or worried.

He opted for worried.

The last he had seen Harry, his broom didn't go over eighteen inches off the ground - six inches if Lily was in the room.

They were going to Godric's Hollow today, however. Which made James incredibly on edge. It was all going to be real. The cottage, the grave. Everything would be there, visible proof.

He stared at the Polyjuice Remus had passed him. "How did you do it, mate?"

"Do what?" Remus asked carefully. He was used to the somber questions over the last few days. They had only grown in number the more James would read. Which he hadn't done much during the war... the first war. Bloody hell, there was too much to keep track of.

"Being alone? I was in the ruddy hospital, Lily... Peter. Sirius?" When James glanced up, Remus looked ashen.

"Dunno," Remus admitted. "Just... did."

"Sucks."

Remus gave him a half smile. "Sure did. But it was alright. Worked on myself a bit." James wasn't sure how well that turned out. He saw Remus sulking about more than fucking Sirius did. And Sirius did it plenty. And Sirius kept to himself most of the time.

They had all changed. And James... James didn't feel young anymore.

He felt like how Dumbledore looked.

"I don't think I can go, mate," James said quietly. "I think it's too soon."

"I thought you wanted to go?"

He did. He had. He didn't know. "Has Harry gone?"

"No." There seemed to be no room for discussion. Remus seemed to know where James was getting to. "It's too dangerous for him. If Death Eaters were to get ahold of him, we'd have nothing going for us."

James wasn't sure how the Polyjuice vial ended smashed against the wall, but it did. Remus didn't seem surprised, instead staring at James calmly as James stood in the middle of the kitchen, panting.

"He's not a bloody bargaining chip," James spat. "He's my bloody son, and I don't care what anyone fucking says, but he's my son first. Not some bloody saviour. Not some chosen one. She died for him. She bloody died so he could live. Don't you think he should at least get a chance to see her grave - to bloody meet her for the first time in his life? That he can ruddy fucking bloody shit remember?"

Words were just kind of spewing out at that point. He just felt so angry.

"We know he's not a bargaining chip, Prongs," Sirius spoke up. James hadn't even realize he was in the room. James took a deep breath, glancing to the door, seeing Sirius in a bath robe with his arms crossed. He dressed entirely too comfortably, but was always looking as uncomfortable as possible in them. "But too many people have died for him. He doesn't need to think anymore will die for him by venturing out."

Cedric. Lily. Frank and Alice were bloody vegetables.

"Sorry," James said quietly. "Don't know what came over me."

"It's... It's common, in your situation," Remus said quietly. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." James had heard of it. He exhaled and sank down onto the stool he had abandoned, his hands running through his unruly hair. "We'll go another day, if you're not ready." Remus's voice was oddly soothing. And familiar. James listened to him continue. "I'll get a calming draught and we can just have a lie in."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "And I'll get Kreacher down here and away from my mother's ruddy portrait to clean up this mess."

"I'll get it," James sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands, weirdly soft from the years he had spent just laying in bed. Gone were the callouses from dueling and quidditch. Ruddy hell, he just wanted to fly again. "And then I'm going to head up to bed. I ... I feel exhausted."

"The mediwitch said that would happen," Remus said after a moment of silence. James knew that he and Sirius had made eye contact and agreed on something. He just didn't have the energy to call them out on it. "I'll wake you up when supper's ready, so you don't miss any meals. The more food you get in you the better you'll feel."

"You sound like Molly now." Remus couldn't help but smirk at that. Molly had shoved so much food down James' throat, that Remus had to physically intervene. It had only earned Remus a third serving, on top of his already overloading second serving.

"We'll go later," Sirius reiterated. "With Harry. You're right, it's time he's gone too. We'll see what we can do."

James made for the broken glass and muddy potion that was coating the wall, but Remus grabbed his arm. "Leave it, we'll get it."

He still felt bloody awful for it. "'sides, mate, if there's anyone you need to ask about Polyjuice potions, it might be something to ask your son," Sirius grinned. James glanced at him, confused. "Ruddy great story, I'll tell you." As if something occurred to him, he said as an afterthought, "Don't ask Hermione though. I made that mistake and nearly lost an eye for it."

"Have you left the house at all these last few weeks?" James asked. He was free. Yet, James felt he had never seen more of Sirius than he had these last few days - weeks? He was not even sure how long he had been awake.

His son would have a birthday soon - his fifteenth. James felt so incredibly old, and far away.

Sirius gave a slow shrug. "Waiting for the news to die down in the papers, then it'll be more meaningful."

"Get some rest, James," Remus said gently. "I'll talk to the Order about having Harry go with you to Godric's Hollow." James just nodded mutely, and ran his hands through his hair, before he hauled himself out the door and up the stairs.


	3. Trampled

_~ August 1st, 1995 ~_

If there was one thing James never wanted to see, it was exactly what he was seeing right in front of him. Molly seemed to think better than to wake James for dinner, which meant that James woke in the early hours of the morning with a growling stomach, and a blinding headache - again.

Journeying to the kitchens was the first mistake he made. Investigating when he heard what sounded like a fight as he passed the library, was the second. He should have toughed it out, manned through his hunger until breakfast in the morning - maybe not even left his room or gone past the library.

He pulled his recovered wand from his pajama trousers, and held his breath as he gently pushed the library door open. It was the sight that made James regret every life choice he had ever made up to that point.

"Merlin's bloody balls-" James' wide eyes, and look of absolute horror equally mirrored Remus's. His hand was places James didn't venture to guess, and given that Remus' trousers were on the floor around his ankles, well... he could only guess where Remus ended and Sirius began. He blinked rapidly, as if he could stop his eyes from bleeding after seeing his two best friends since he was bloody eleven naked enough to not be ready for a swim.

"James," Remus said carefully.

"Please don't," James interrupted swiftly. "Please don't say my name while you're still inside of Sirius." The words were those James never thought he'd say. And Sirius... well, Sirius was grinning like a bloody loon.

"Sorry, Prongs," Sirius threw easily across the library. "Care to join, or are you just going to stand there and watch?" The books under him were ones that James was going to have to encourage the werewolf and Molly to burn. And the table. And the rug. Maybe the whole house, and his eyes for good measure.

James took off his glasses, so the intimate details in front of him were nothing more than a blurry form. "You lot could have at least locked the door, yeah? Bloody hell, this isn't a brothel."

"Still haven't left, either, mate," Sirius returned, and though James couldn't see it, there was a distinct eyebrow wiggling in the ex-con's voice.

Right. Leaving. James swiftly slammed the door shut, hearing Remus call out softly "Sorry!" from behind it. Standing in the hall, James could almost immediately hear that walking in on them did not seem to hinder the couple in the least.

James banged the back of his head against the door. "And put up a bloody silencing charm, next time! I don't need to hear it either! Think of the children!" He quickly threw up a silencing charm for them, and wondered if he was really hungry after all.

His stomach wasn't growling anymore.

He opted to go to the kitchens, anyway, and get himself a cup of tea. Or a glass of water. Maybe even some firewhiskey.

Setting the kettle on, James hauled himself onto the counter, and buried his head in his hands. He had always had an inkling of a relationship. The year that Remus had spent in Greyback's pack had made Sirius a fucking nightmare to deal with. And now James understood.

They had always shared clothes, though James had reasoned that it was because Remus didn't have very nice clothes, and Sirius got whatever clothes he wanted. They sometimes shared a bed, but it was always around a full moon, and James knew that Remus had awful nightmares around the full moon. But that had started when they were just second years, and James knew that old habits died hard.

He still reached for a cigarette only to remember he didn't have any.

They loved one another, that much had been clear from what he saw in the library. From too much he saw. And despite the years that separated them, the more than fourteen years between the war and missions and Azkaban, they were together, and happy. And making up for lost time.

Lily wasn't coming back. She wasn't going to give him one of those annoyed glares when he couldn't stop humming a song that Sirius had played on their record player. She wasn't going to hold him close at night and he wasn't going to get to comb her hair after a shower because he hated how he'd get a big mop of it in his face while he was sleeping otherwise. He wouldn't have her, anymore.

And that was worse than anything James could have ever imagined.

"I'm sorry, Lily," James whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you and our son."

Tea wasn't strong enough. He dumped the almost boiled kettle and reached for the firewhiskey stash that Sirius had showed him when he first arrived. If he could make the ache in his chest go away, just for the next few hours, it would be worth the headache he'd have later.

He woke in his room, the firewhiskey bottle empty on the nightstand and the putrid scent of his breath when he groaned. What was the name of the house-elf? "Kreacher?" James mumbled, tugging his pillow over his face. When he heard the crack, he winced at the noise. "I could really use a sober-up potion, please."

There was a grumbling, and then the crack of apparation again as the elf left.

Harry would be here today. He didn't know what the game plan was. How they were going to breach the topic of the introduction. The fact that Harry had no idea he was even alive made his throat burn almost as badly as the fire whiskey had.

How could they not tell Harry about him? How could they not tell Harry that he was in a coma? Yet, he knew the answer. If Harry knew he was alive, Sirius had given enough indication that Harry would have demanded to go to St. Mungo's. James wanted Harry's safety as the upmost priority.

Anything that put Harry in danger would have to be avoided. He was not going to make the same mistake twice.

Fourteen years now. His son was almost a man, and he had missed everything.

So, he repeated the information he had begged his best mates for. "Gryffindor, Hogwart's TriWizard Champion and winner, duelled the Dark Lord and lived, youngest seeker of the century, broke his arm second year and had it vanished, traveled back in time to break Sirius out of prison, has an owl named Hedwig, born July 31, 1980."

His birthday was yesterday. James had no idea what to get him when the Order opted to celebrate come Harry's arrival, or what to even do with his son. The last birthday they had, he got a broom that he had rode around the house.

Kreacher arrived with the potion, putting it on the nightstand, and popped back out. First the potion, then the shower to clean himself up. And then he'd freak out with what he was going to say to his son. What the first thing he was going to say that Harry would ever remember.

It was a pressure he wasn't too happy to have.

They decide to ease him into it, by having Harry sit down with Remus and Sirius as they talked with him about everything. James and Molly were in the kitchen, and after she greeted Harry, sounding every bit like a mother would when seeing a son after a long time, she directed him up the stairs until this blasted meeting was over. The one that reminded James that his and Lily's supposed deaths had been for nothing.

That the Dark Lord was getting stronger, and would be after him, and after Harry. There was nothing James could do to stop that.

It wasn't until after the meeting that his stomach was churning, and he felt the familiar raw ache of nervousness. He had only felt it a few times in his life, this intensely. The first had been the first time he had worked up the courage to speak to Lils. He had royally botched it up, insulting her more than complimenting her as he had rehearsed in his head. And then the second time was their first date. He had been so nervous to make sure everything was perfect, that he had thrown up on her shoes right after dessert.

Then when he was getting married. He was nervous for the arrival of Lily. He thought she got cold feet and regained some of her senses and opted for Remus instead of himself. But he had showed and the knots had untangled immediately upon seeing her.

Seeing Harry, speaking to Harry, for the first time… it was suffocating him. He knew nothing about his son, but second-hand accounts. He knew nothing about what his favorite food was, what he liked to listen to… Just the basics that James ventured most people read about in the papers. He pushed into the kitchen and came short when he spotted Granger sitting at the table.

She didn't glance up at his entrance, but she did say a quiet, "Hello."

"Studying?" he found himself asking. She always had her nose in a book, so it was a pointless question. But the less he thought about what he was going to say to Harry the better.

"Arithmancy," Hermione supplied. "Did you ever take that course?"

James grinned at that. "Did I? My best subject, if I do say so myself." That gained her attention. She glanced up sharply, clearly doubting him. "Fifth year is the first year you're taking it, yes?"

"I've been taking it since third. 1987, they changed the minimum class age," Hermione informed him swiftly, his mistake being corrected with her endless vat of knowledge. Knowledge he would have known if he had been awake. "They opted to spread the information and build a strong base for third and fourth year before advanced theory is discussed for NEWTs."

That made sense. James fidgeted slightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hermione dropped her gaze back down to her book. "Are Sirius and Remus going to be telling Harry?"

"Before dinner," James admitted. He chewed on his lip.

"He threatened to kill Sirius before listening to an explanation once. He has a temper."

"So did Harry's mum." The brief smile that hit James face caused he knots to twist full force again. "I'm getting something to drink. Do you need a firewhiskey for all those numbers?"

"Drinking doesn't deal with problems, Mr. Potter. It just suppresses them."

"Also called liquid courage. A glass never hurt anyone." She hums and becomes engrossed again. James pours himself a glass and drinks it in a single go.

"Sirius!" James heard his son's voice say. In the living room. His head cracked with the speed he jerked around to look at the door that separated him from his son. It was a name he hadn't heard Harry say in over a decade, with letters that were more slurred together and higher pitched, sure, but it was the same as it was then otherwise.

"Harry," Sirius called back. "Look at you. You look more and more like your father every day."

"Professor," Harry greeted, and James assumed it was for Remus.

"How many times must I tell you, Harry? Remus will do. I've seen you in your nappies."

James leaned against the counter, contemplating if he should get closer to the door. And if he did, would the temptation be easy to restrain to keep himself from surprising Harry? He didn't know. He just knew that a sweat was starting to break on his forehead and his hands felt clammy. He rubbed the palms on his trousers and listened carefully, holding his breath so he could hear better.

"Let's take a seat. There are a few things we've been meaning to discuss with you, Harry, and now is the best time we've been able to arrange." This was it.

James was going to meet his son.


End file.
